


talk to me

by fishywishing



Category: Homestuck
Genre: But mostly fluff, F/F, Fix-It, M/M, Other, POV Second Person, Perspective Switching, colorful use of the word bitch, fuck them epilogues its my turn, ill tag as i go - Freeform, karkat becomes president, nb roxy, no ultimate self bullshit, not permanent suicide because gay rights., rose wants to be a mom, suicide TW, this will have some dark bits, vriska in paradox space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 18:52:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18629209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishywishing/pseuds/fishywishing
Summary: I hate Hussie so I'll be filling in as the real epilogue writer!  So sorry about the confusion.  Anyway, take this.After seven years on Earth C, there's bound to be problems, political or personal.  There's also problems that aren't on Earth C.  No matter the place, there's plenty of shit to work through.  Like pregnant cats, succeeding Obama, getting bored, and being stupidly gay and maddeningly oblivious.  Also food poisoning, awkward talks with your best friend and her brother, wanting to be a mom, depression, being your own twin siblings's parent(s), Actual Serious Shit, and, once again, being gay.





	1. sicknasty and sick

**Author's Note:**

> Rose is sick. Sick-fucking-nasty! And also sick.

Your name is Rose Lalonde. And you are crazy off ya’ shits sick. The whole shebang, your bedside table is covered in pill bottles and bubblegum flavored motrin, your bed is littered with tissues, it kinda sucks. Luckily it’s not some illness contrived by some edgy freaks obsessed with “adult themes” and a penchant for being fucking stupid. You think you’re very lucky that you’re not dying or some shit, however, you’re a little pissed off all the same. Your wife sits in the next room sewing up a storm with that rickety machine she loves to death. “It’s just more authentic,” she always says. 

You would prefer some “authentic” time with her. But no. Instead your (beloved, perfect) wife has made the decision that she would bother your sickly laying around to make a shirt for your cat and her upcoming kittens. For heaven's sake, the cat has three shirts already, there’s really no need for more. (There’s a need for more, your mind betrayingly provides.) You groan and kick your covers off, there’s nothing else to do but go sweetly berate your wife so you can sleep in peace. When you get up, you wobble a bit, but since you aren’t dying or anything, you just let the stars clear out of your vision and stand for a bit, before stumbling to the door. 

Bright light floods the room, from both Kanaya and the setting sun. “Dearest?” you say, in the most passive aggressive Lalonde voice you can manage with snot dripping from your nose. She takes her foot off of that damned pedal with surprise. “Dearest, could you do something about all this noise? It’s bothering me to death. Not in the literal sense, thank me.”

Kanaya rolls her eyes.

“Ka-nay-a,” you whine. “I’m sick.”

She relents and gets up from the kitchen table that she’s recently taken over in light of the kittens. Ah, yes, the kittens. Because the Mother Grub’s impending babies aren’t enough, your cat decided to get pregnant, and now in a few days, will bring along a tiny army of little Jaspers the Seconds. The miracle of life, or whatever, while you try to act indifferent, has melted Kanaya into a motherly mess. Despite your act, you’ve actually begun to imagine a life with children and Kanaya, troll, kitten, human, or otherwise. The thought secretly brings you to happy-tears. (You would never admit that.) But back to your wife, who you definitely don't daydream of making babies with on the daily. That’s gay shit, as Dave would eloquently put it.

Your wife stretches and walks stiffly up to you. You smile and lean in for a kiss, but your outstretched lips end up covered by her rough palms instead of her pretty black lips. “You said it yourself, Rosie, you’re sick.”

You groan again. You’ve been a little irritable these last few days, you suppose it’s because your illness is dragging you through the wringer. “Seven years, and I’ve never thought to ask Jane if she can just, I don’t know, cure all this with a clap? I can’t believe we’re immortal and we still wander unsuspectingly unto the hands of plague incarnate.”

“This is getting silly. Do you want to watch a movie or something? Take your mind of the ‘hands of plague incarnate’ or whatever the hell children’s motrin has addled your brain into fearing?”

Laughing, you flop down on the apartment’s couch, causing the heavily pregnant Jaspers the Second to hiss and bat at you. You playfully hiss back, even though you’re 23, and not 12, wearing a neon wolf’s tail to seventh grade, clutching a battered copy of Bramblestar’s Storm, hissing at the local population of Chads-To-Be, which you never actually did. Kanaya raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say a word.

You flick on the television. "What should we watch?"

"Anything but another one of those movies layered in twists and turns and psychoanalysis. I'll divorce you."

"Fair enough."

"And not fucking Shrek again. I know you think it's deep, Rose, but it's not."

"I'll have you know-"

Before you can turn to the movie channels to see what’s on, a breaking news report flashes on. “Jane Crocker Announces Her Resignation From The Presidential Race”, followed by a Carapacian tapping violently upon a table and gesturing at the camera. You blink at the television, then turn to Kanaya and blink again. A small, relieved smile flickers onto her face. “Well, there goes that,” Kanaya giggles, “A true win for the common tro-... Being?”

Does this mean Karkat wins? His shitty, grassroots campaign?

You voice this question aloud, albeit minus the “shitty” bit. It’s not like you didn’t believe in him and Dave, it’s just that you absolutely didn’t believe in him and Dave. 

“I… Ah…”

Honestly? You’re fucking shocked. Knocked out of the park, really. “Holy shit, Kan, do we need to call them or something?”

Her jaw drops, as she still tries to smile, which on anyone else would look incredibly stupid, but on your wife, it’s maddeningly adorable. Focus, Rose, Focus, your dummy hot wife isn’t the objective right now. Did your brother just become Earth C’s first… First dude? (Well, -ish. They’re still acting like two dudes that like dudes living in the same house and cuddling all the time is completely platonic.) You dial him in shock.

He doesn’t pick up, which unnerves you until Kanaya tries Karkat. For some reason, he’s the one to pick up, although between the three of you, he is always the most responsible.

Kanaya taps speakerphone. His voice sounds shaky, but you can hear the cheers of his entire campaign in the background, which is to say you can hear Jade and Dave screaming, “BITCH HE’S THE PRESIDENT” in the background. “Hello?”

“Did- Did you just win? Win the,” she struggles to say it nicely, “Presidency you didn't want?”

The two of you hear crackling and the shouting comes to a stop. Then the call switches to video from Karkat’s phone, and Dave yells into the camera, “That’s fucking right. This bitch is the soon to be president unless someone else decides to step up.”

The camera view switches from an unflattering closeup of your brother’s face to a view of Karkat face down on the living room carpet. He screams into the rug then looks up at Dave holding the camera and grins- Oh wow, that’s a weird look. Karkat grinning. 

“I’m the president, bitch!”

You're not really sure what to say. You've lived with him for years, though not quite as intimately has someone else may have. You are definitely happy. You're just... Unnverved by the thought of the kid who screamed at you if you commented about his bug eating habits or tried to psychoanalyze his rom-coms being president.

Well, good on him anyway.


	2. rock fights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has been the worst end to a hero's journey that you can think of. Fuck rocks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vriska Time!

Somewhere and somewhen on the other side of paradox space, you float. Your name is Vriska Serket, and you are bored out of your goddamn mind.

You have no idea how long it’s been since you shoved that green 8astard into the black hole, but you’re thinking that after saving the fucking universe, you could get a little reprieve. It’s just you and the flashing green and orange cat-bird. And Tavros. You really hate this. It feels like it’s been days, even weeks, since you’ve done the heroic deed of being the hero and you cannot wait for the hero’s journey to fucking end. Also, Davepeta is looking like a snack. Not the sexy kind, your chalk-eating wifey is the sexy kind of snack. You’re just kinda hungry. The three of you are one disagreement away from attacking each other with some paradoxical rocks. 

“Do you ever think,” you pose to your comrades, who you really hate right now, “What if I didn’t do this awesome thing and let everyone die?”

Davepeta raises their head from the rocky surface and looks at you. “I’m so glad we did! Wouldn’t that be hella shitty of us to not?”

You groan.

“If I could do it all again, I would sacrifice both of you bitches to English and then throw myself into the hole with him.” 

Tavros rolls over, kicking up a cloud of dust. “I guess- I guess you’re kind of right. Sh-Shouldn’t we be, like, rewarded for all of it?”

Nodding, you clap him on the back, in what you hoped was a gesture of some sort of goodwill, but ended up making him choke on his own spit. He coughs violently for a few seconds, then flops back down to the dust.

“Yeah, this blows.” You sigh in agreement, but decide not to clap Davepeta on the back.

“Wanna name our favorite colors again?” Tavros asks, innocently. “Mine hasn’t changed.”

There’s a lot of smacking and sighing up in this bitch.

The three of you aren’t hungry or even thirsty to the point of being really crazy yet, thankfully. You wish you could thank yourself for it, but you think maybe it’s just because paradox space-time is kind of bullshit. None of you can figure out a single plan at all, all you’ve done is yell at each other. Despite this group being perfect for defeating a big bad, you can’t stand them at all. Tavros is a given, you kind of never liked him, and Davepeta isn’t actually that terrible, it’s just the time you’ve spent together has been very, very stressful. 

You look up at the sky all the time, helplessly waiting for a rescuer, like in troll Titanic. This dusty shell of a planet is your door, paradox space is the cold open water, and you're about to let Jack go. Jack being Tavros. Maybe Davepeta. 

You want out of here! You want to go and live the life you were meant to! Whatever life it happens to be. You really want to commit small crimes. Shoplifting or something. Jaywalk. Large scale bank heists from the baker bitch. You have a lot of ideas.

You keep gazing up, waiting for anyone.

All three of you do.

Man, this blows.


	3. winners take all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit, you good bro? And some celebratory awkward speeches. Plus the joy of diversity training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first few sentences contain a suicide tw!! scroll a few lines down if that makes you uncomfortable.

Back on the right side of paradox space, you prepare to launch yourself off of a building. Your name is Dirk Strider, and oh, fuck, are you actually going to do this?

Apparently you are.

\--

You, on the contrary, have just won the presidency by default, despite all odds being against you. Your campaign manager and favorite dog girl hype beast are going absolutely buckwild. Apeshit, if you will. You, however, aren’t really sure what you’ve gotten yourself into. Your name is President Karkat and you have no idea how legal all this actually was, but you just became, as Dave calls you, Obama… Two!

Kanaya and her wife are on the phone- Your phone, to be specific, but Dave grabbed it and is talking to the couple excitedly. “...and I have no idea why she dropped out of the race but what-fuckin-ever! I love Jane but she needs to get her shit together first. Talk to the common man, learn the economy!”

“It’s always the economy with you,” Kanaya snaps, “If Jane won, she would have had to learn political correctness, and you know how lesbians are with learning things. Take Rose for example, I sincerely think she stagnated after we created Earth C. Name one thing you have learned, Rose.”

Rose mock weeps, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. “Nothing, Kanaya. Same as you.”

Kanaya’s bottom lip turns down. “Tragic.”

“Get back on topic, holy SHIT, Karkat is the fucking president!” Dave tosses your phone to you. “It’s time to hang up, we have a victory speech to craft in ten minutes. Jade, break out the campaign tablet then spread that news!"

You wave goodbye to the happy couple, and hang up.

“You mean your normal tablet, right?” 

“Yes, Jade, I mean the normal tablet. Or whatever the hell we’ve been using to do this thing.”

Jade turns up her nose and crosses her arms, but she’s smiling widely. She’s sitting cross legged on your couch, tapping away at her own phone, probably spreading the news. She tosses the campaign tablet to Dave and leaps up into the air. “I kind of want to talk to Jane about all this,” she says, pulling on her socks and flats.

“Wait.” You have to thank her, idiot. 

“Thank you, Jade. I’m not sure what exactly is going to happen, but I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you and Dave.”

She smiles even wider and floats to just a few inches above the ground, in front of you. “Anything for you two idiots! Good luck with that victory speech? I wish I had some ideas for it.”

Bobbing towards the door, Jade flashes a peace sign and a wink, although you’re not exactly sure what she means by it. Whatever. You have a speech to write and- oh god Dave’s right next to you ohh shit this is the fucking worst.

He slides onto the floor right behind you, wrapping one arm around you and clicking on the tablet with the other. “How about… Thanks, comrades, others, Jake’s ass, and other others.”

The floor is suddenly as comfortable as your couch. You lean back again Dave and allow a tiny smile to your face. You wish you were able to focus, for fuck’s sake, you’ve just won- and he’s curling a leg around you and whatever he says now sounds like sweet nothings. Even the words “Jake’s ass” can’t distract you from him. You have to snap out of it!

\--

Your two favorite boy friends- not boyfriends, thank you- boy (space space space) friends have just done what seemed impossible, and you’d love to figure out why, and they only way you can think to start is to talk to the loser- Is it a loss if she dropped out?

Your name is Jade Harley and you need to talk to your cousin about being kind of politically incorrect, and also ask if that’s why she dropped out.

So, you begin the trek to Jane’s office. By trek, you mean you begin to open the portal straight to Jane’s door, because you’re in too much of a hurry to bother with semantics like using your goddamn feet! You bust through the door, even though it’s seven at night and she’s probably about to leave or at least wants to, although she tends to overwork herself. Taking the stairs three at a time, you bound through the halls with the same restraint of a golden retriever, so, nearly none. You almost knock into three separate walls and absolutely knock over several boxes, one containing little pins proclaiming ‘A vote for Jane is a vote for good’, which sounds just a tad dystopian to you, but maybe you’re just imagining it. You’re very happy that Jane’s not a fascist, or even anything but a little insensitive to your friends. Hell, she was a little insensitive to everyone when she was 16, you think. You were a little messy too, but you got that shit together a little sooner.

You waltz into her office at the top of every flight of stairs in the goddamn building, just slightly panting. You’ve got that stamina.

Jane, surprisingly, doesn’t look very much worse for wear, despite your preconceptions. “Hey, Jade! How ya’ doing? I’m sure you’ve heard the news.”

“I’m… Good! I expected you to look… Sadder, I guess. Haven’t you been campaigning pretty hard?”

She shrugs, looking at anyone but you. Unfortunately, there’s no one in the room but you, right in front of her desk. You decide to press her. “Jane, dude, what happened?”

Biting her lip, Jane turns her focus back to you. Those light blue eyes are always so striking against her short black hair, it’s been years since you met her and they still get you sometimes.

“My campaign manager thought it best, Jade, that’s all.”

You stare at her for a second. “Campaign manager. You mean, Dirk? He told you to drop out?”

Jane stares back, with a little less certainty that usual. “Yes? My, ahem, campaign manager called me and said it was imperative I drop out. And the more I think about it, the more I have to agree. I’ve made some… Iffy comments. Stuff that Kanaya’s brought to my attention! I figure, I should get it together, right?”

“But why would he of all people do that?”

“Don’t ask me!” Jane snaps, and you shrink a little. You can see the hurt in her eyes, so you lean forward again. “Sorry, Jane, you’re just so… Oh, this is ironic. You’re so strident! Get it?”

She smiles and sighs. “Yes, I sure am. And honestly, I’m not sure why. Is something up?”

You have to consider this for a second. Nothing’s really… Up? You just think it’s a little odd that he suddenly had her pull out. It’s not even that close to the election day. “Well, I hope you aren’t feeling too down on yourself about dropping out! And like, having to pay for diversity training when here all your friends and family are messin’ around with all different kinds of species.”

That makes Jane grimace. “Crass but true, dear Jadey.”

“I’ll see you later, okay? Love you!”

“Love you too! Bye then!”

But you can’t seem to get it out of your head that something’s weird.

\--

Once again, your name is Dirk Strider. And boy howdy, did you fuck this up. Woops!

**Author's Note:**

> fuck them epilogues. mine now. hmu at @romancemancer on tumblr and kudos n comment hehe!


End file.
